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YEA, bloody cloth, I'll keep thee; for I wisnt
Thou should'st be colour'd thus. You married ones,
If each.of you would take this course, how many
Must murther wives much better than themselves
For wryingbut a little? oh Pifanio!
Every good servant does not all commands;
No bond, but to do just ones. — Gods! if you
Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never
Had liv'd to put on this; so had you saved
The noble Imogen to repent, and struck
Me, wretch, more worth your vengeance. But alack,
You snatch some hence for little sauhs; that's love
To have them fall no more; you some permi >
To second ills with ills, each worse than other
And make them J'dreaded,N to the doers thrift.
But Imogen's your own: do your best wills,
And make .me blest t'obey! I am brought hither
Among th' Italian gentry, and to fight
Against my Lady's Kingdom; 'tis enough
That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress: Peace,
I'll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good heaves,
Hear patiently my purpose. I'll disrobe me
"Of these Italian weeds, and suit my self
As do's a Briton peasant.; so I'll fight
Against the past I come with i so I'll die
For thee, O Imogen, for whom my life

3 dread it. . . old edit. Tbtob. emend.

Enter Posthumus with a bloody handkerchief.

POSTHUMUS.

Is every breath a death; and thus 4 'not known/
Pitied, 5 'orN hated, to the face of peril
My self I'll dedicate. Let me make men know
More valour in me, than my habit shews;
Gods, put the strength o'th' Leonati in me!
To shame the guise o'th' world, I will begin
The fashion, less without, and more within.

Enter Lucius, Iachimo, and the Roman army at one door; and the British army at another: Leonatus Posthumus following like a poor Soldier. They march over, and go out. 'Then enter again in skirmish Iachimo, and Posthumus; he vanquijbeth and difarmetb Iachimo, and then leaves him."

Iatb. The heaviness and guilt within my bosom Takes off my manhood; I've bely'd a Lady, The Princess of this country; and the air on'c Revengingly enseebles me: or could this carle, A very drudge of nature, have subdu'd me In my prosession? knighthoods, honours born, As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn; If that thy gentry, Britain, go before This lowe, as he exceeds our Lords, the odds Is, that we scarce are men, and you are Gods. [Exit.

The battel continues; the Britons fly, Cymbeline is taken; then enter to his rescue, Bellarius, Guiderius, and

-' Arviragus. Bel Stand, stand we have th' advantage of the ground.

That lane is guarded: nothing routs us, but

The villainy of our sears*-
Quid. Aro. Stand, stand and fight.

Enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britons. They rescue
Cymbeline, and exeunt.
Then enter Lucius, Iachimo, and Imogen.
Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save thy self;

N 4 For

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For friends kill friends, and the disorders such
As war were hood-wink'd. '-

Jack 'Tis their fresh supplies.

Luc. It is a.day turn'd strangely. Or betimes Let's re-inforce, or fly. [Exeunt,

S C E N E II.

Another part of the field of Battle.

Enter Posthumus, and a British Lord.

Lord. pAm^st thou from where they made the stand?

•V-* Post. I did. .
Though you it seems came from the fliers.
Lord. I did.

Post. No blame be to you, Sir, for all was lost.
But that the heavens fought: the King himself
Of his wings destitute, the army broken,
And but the backs of Britons seen; all flying
Through a straight lane, the enemy sull-hearted,
Lolling the tongue with slaught'ring, having work
More plentisul, than tools to do't, struck down
Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some falling
Meerly through sear, that the strait pass was damm'd
With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards living
To die with lengthen'd shame.

Lord. Where was this lane?

Post. Close by the battel, cUtch'd, and wall'd with turf, Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, An honest one I warrant, who deserv'd So long a breeding as his white beard came to, In doing this for's country: 'thwart the lane, He, with two striplings, (lads more like to run The country Base, than to commit such slaughter, With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer

Th^ri

Than those 6 'for preservation cas'd) For Jhame
IMakeNgood the passage, cry'd to those that fled,
Our Britain';7 'barlss die flying., not our men;
¥■> darkness fleet fouls that fly backwards: stand,
Or ice are Romans, and mil give you that
Like heasts, which you stun heastly, and may save

But to look back in frown : stand, stand These three,

Three thousand confident, in act as many,

(For three performers are the file, when all

The rest do nothing ;) with this word Stand, stands

Accommodated by the place, more charming

With their own nobleness, which could have turn'd

A distaff to a lance, gilded pale looks

Part, shame, part, spirit-renew'd; that some turn'd coward

But by example (oh a sin in war,

Damn'd in the first beginners) 'gan to look

The way that they did, and to grin like lions

Upon the pikes o'th' hunters. Then began

A stop i'th' chaser, a retire; anon

A rout consusion-thick. Forthwith they flie

Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; slaves,

The strides they victors made; and now our cowards,

Like fragments in hard voyages, became

The lise o'th' need; having found the back door open

Of the unguarded hearts, heav'ns, how they wound 1

Some slain before, some dying, some their friends

O'er-born i'th' former wave; ten chae'd by one

Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty;

Those that would die or e'er resist, are grown

The mortal bugs o'th' field.

Lard. This was strange cflance;
A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys!

Post. Nay, do not wonder at it; * 'tho' you are madcN Rather to wonder at the things you hear,

Than

6 for preservation cas'd, or shame) Made, &c.

7 hearts ...«/</ edit. Tbtob. tmend. 8 you are made

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Than to work any. a
Lord. Farewel, you are angry. \_E
Post. This is a Lord; oh noble misery
To be i'ch* field, and ask what news, of me!
To-day, how many would have given their honours
To've sav'd their carcasses! took heel to do't,
And yet died too! I, in mine own woe charm'd, b
Could not find death where I did hear him groan,
Nor seel him where he struck. This ugly monster,
'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft beds,
Sweet words; 9 'andN hath more ministers than we
That draw his knives in war. Well, I will find him
For being now a favourer to the 1 'Romans
No more a Briton; I've refum'd again,
The part I came in; fight I will no more,
But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall
Once touch my shoulder. Great the flaughter is
Here made by th' Roman; great the answer be,
Britons must take! For me, my ransom's death,
On either side I come to spend my breath;
"Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again,
But end it by some means for Imogen.

(a) Than to work any.

Will you rhyme upon't,
And vent it for a mockery? here is one:
Ttwo heys, an tld man tnvice a boy, a lane,
Prefer<v'd the Britons, -was ike Komans bam.

Paji. 'Lack, to what end?
Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his friend} . . .

For if he'll do, as he is made to do,
I know he'll quickly fly my friendship too.
You have put me into rhymes.
Lord. Farewel, £sV.

(b) Meaning that bis woe stem'd as a charm which pretctlcd htm. Warburton.

9 or 1 Britain

Enter two Captains., and Soldiers.

i Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd, Lucius is taken. *Tis thought the old man, and his sons, were angels.

2 Cap.

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